


As Mack Explained, There Will Be Darkness Again

by WildnessBecomesYou



Series: Music is Not the Food of Love, but the Messenger [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Copious amounts of alcohol make a demon vaguely horny and an angel frustrated, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, also vaguely horny but still, i mean it's a slight alteration but still, i still have like fifteen songs, it's really neither fluff nor angst, more! songfic!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: My heart is thrilled by the still of your handIt's how I know now that you understandHow big the hourglass, how deep the sandI shouldn't hope to know, but here I standThe Antichrist has been delivered. Crowley wants Aziraphale to understand just how fucked they are.





	As Mack Explained, There Will Be Darkness Again

**Author's Note:**

> Wooo, another songfic! And another Hozier one! (No Plan) 
> 
> It's a little different than canon, but not all that much.

It wasn’t long after the Antichrist had been left in a basket. It wasn’t long before the world would end, and fuck it, Crowley wanted, he wanted— 

Well, he _wanted._

And, as ever, the epicenter of his want just happened to be a representative of the Other Side. 

The epicenter of his want also happened to be fighting the idea that they could work together. 

“We’re on opposite sides! You’re a demon,” Aziraphale said around the mouth of a wine bottle. Crowley licked his lips. 

“Yes, same thing you’ve said for— for…” Crowley attempted to count. Crowley gave up. “For forever.” He wished the angel wouldn’t bring this up. It’s not as if he meant to Fall.

He just asked questions. 

“Am I wrong?” Aziraphale asked, still slightly indignant. 

Crowley huffed, tipping his head back against the angel’s couch cushions. “And what does being right get you?” he asked. 

Aziraphale tipped forward, staring at the wine bottle, then lifted it to his lips again. Crowley chuckled. 

“You were right about God creating her world. You were right about Sodom and Gomorrah. You were right about Oscar Wilde—“ the angel coughed, which made the demon grin a little, “and what did it do to you?”

“It—“ the angel cut himself off. “It made me get very drunk.”

“It made you lie to yourself,” the demon hissed, rising from his spot, tipping over where Aziraphale sat, close enough to feel Aziraphale’s startled puff of air. “It made you lock away your _true_ thoughts for some plan—“ 

“Her Plan is ineff—“ 

“Her Plan doesn’t bloody _exist_ ,” Crowley hissed again.

For once, Aziraphale looked confused. Well and truly confused. Like he couldn’t prove Crowley wrong, so didn’t know what to say. He tipped the wine bottle back again, swallowed thickly. Crowley swallowed thickly too as the bottom of the bottle brushed his chest. 

“Tell me, angel,” he whispered, not even bothering to imbue it with temptation. 

“I— I need to think,” Aziraphale breathed. 

“Afraid of saying the wrong thing?” Crowley teased, leaning closer, leaning down as Aziraphale tilted his head to the side. As if the angel wanted this. “Secret’s safe with me. It’s just us,” he continued as he moved his mouth directly to Aziraphale’s ear. 

He didn’t want to see Aziraphale’s face if Aziraphale rejected him. 

He grabbed the base of the wine bottle. Aziraphale’s hand covered his, trembling slightly. “We can’t outrun this, can we.”

It wasn’t a question. Crowley wasn’t a hundred percent sure what this was. 

The answer was the same anyways. “No, angel, we can’t.” Time to clarify. “This isn’t a race, this is complete destruction. No more bookstore. No more philosophers. No more crepes, pastries, wine—“

“No more sun,” Aziraphale said wistfully. 

“No, the sun’ll go down, and it won’t come back,” Crowley responded, leaning back slightly, just enough to see Aziraphale’s face. It was slowly hardening. 

“Let there be light,” the angel said, voice dripping with something strangely akin to disgust, “let there be _darkness_ again.” 

“Precccisssely,” Crowley hissed, beginning to grin. 

Aziraphale’s hand gripped Crowley’s collar, very suddenly, and Crowley almost wondered if his throat had been the target.

His hand was still against the fabric of Crowley’s shirt. The angel’s other hand was still against Crowley’s, remaining on the bottle of wine. Both of them wanted a drink, but neither moved. 

“No plan,” Aziraphale breathed. 

“No plan,” Crowley agreed, “the kingdom comes.”

“There’s no kingdom,” Aziraphale growled— actually growled, oh Holy Powers— and surged forward. 

Anger tasted good. Like the burn of alcohol and the bitterness of tannins. Crowley’s heart thrilled.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is two fics in one day, but it's summer and this is the first time I've been inspired to write in almost two years, and I've missed it very much. I do hope y'all enjoy.


End file.
